


What Dreams May Bring

by Emblue_Sparks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christian Holidays, Crisis of Faith, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Jewish Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12968124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emblue_Sparks/pseuds/Emblue_Sparks
Summary: December arrives in Lebanon along with Jack's desire to understand the practices and purpose of faith. Despite the angel's return, the brothers are still recovering from their loss and it seems Deans faith has taken the hardest hit. While Jack experiences the wonder and merriment of the holidays, Castiel endeavors to give Dean what he needs so his heart can be open to what it wants.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> On December 10, 2015 a beloved soul gave me what I needed most. Within me now resides but a small flame of the miraculous light who now watches over....as my own precious, enduring Shamash. The following story is in memory of this soul.
> 
> This is canon divergent from 13x6, Jack didn't harm the guard so he never took off.
> 
> Thank you to Sheyna and Aya for helping me with the beautiful Chanuka traditions. If there are any mistakes, the fault lies with me. Thanks to Stephany Jones for your help with the beginning of this fic.
> 
> PSA-currently there are no FBI Jack plushies at Hot Topical, or anywhere else. I put it in the story simply because I wanted to.

December arrived in Lebanon without much pomp and circumstance. Dean awakened to the usual morning sounds of Sam, Jack, and Cas quietly regarding one another until the fog of sleep had lifted enough for soft conversation. He heard the coffee rumbling to life and wrapped his ‘dead guy robe’ around himself, shuffled across the icy floor into his ‘dead guy slippers’, then made his way to the kitchen with his eyelids heavy from sleep. He found Sam and Jack huddled on the breakfast bench, hands wrapped around their steaming mugs of cocoa. Cas was by the coffee maker holding a fresh cup of Lazarus Brew, aka- Dean's “strong stuff”, out to him with a smile as bright as sunshine.

When Lucifer ran Cas through with his blade, Dean entered the darkest phase of his life. Since his angel had come back, something between them felt different, more illuminating. He closed his eyes, leaned against the counter, and wrapped his fingers around the warmth of the mug while listening to the quiet conversation from the direction of the breakfast table.

“The internet said 'the most wonderful time of the year’. The pictures seem cheerful, but I’m confused why there are so many sales when Thanksgiving was supposed to be about being grateful for what you already have,” Jack said barely above a whisper.

Sam scoffed, “It never made much sense to us either. But then Dean and I haven't really celebrated it, growing up we were on the road, then once we had a gruesome case with some pagan gods and the Krampus. It's just a calm day to laze around drinking beer and watch Game of Thrones.”

Jack looked curious and a smidge disappointed as Sam’s words sunk in. The younger Winchester saw his expression and reconsidered.

“You know what? Just because our experiences weren’t great doesn't mean you should miss out,” Sam stated, changing his mind.

“Whoa there Sam, don't get carried away. We never had the whole tree trimming, decking the halls bit and we managed to turn out alright didn't we?” Dean asked, his voice still gruff from sleep, putting the brakes on the discussion steamrolling towards cheesy, overdone frivolity.

When he realized the room was silent he opened his eyes to Sam’s bitchface and a disapproving angel with a raised eyebrow examining him with laser focus.

Well crap.

“Whatever. I’ll get dressed then we’ll run into town” he mumbled, scooting back to his bedroom to change.

It's not that he didn't like to celebrate, however, the circus-like commercialism gave him no comfort. He’d manage for the kid even though for himself it was a practice in futility.

Cas was a huge win, yet Dean still felt part of himself missing. He was just going through the motions with cases and hunts. Despite their accomplishments, he struggled to see the point in forging new connections when people were consistently ripped away. He hadn't realized Cas had been waiting for him in the doorway, his mouth upturned but a concern in his eyes.

“Ready for holiday Crazy Town?” Dean asked, shrugging his shoulders.

“People do manage to take holidays to the extreme. I’m just pleased humanity puts considerable effort into reducing bloodshed during these times.”

“So damn glad to have you home Cas,” Dean said squeezing his shoulder as he slithered past the angel into the hall. He wanted to hug him but feared he’d never let go. During the trip to town, Sam explained the origins of Chanukah and Christmas to Jack, only requiring minor corrections from Cas. They returned with far more “crap” than Dean would’ve preferred, but the kid's delight over it was far from a nuisance. Jack wanted to decorate immediately, but was assured part of the magic of the holidays was anticipation itself.

Finally, on December 12th, Jack and Dean carefully lined the windows of the bunker and library shelves with blue and white lights. This was new to Dean, yet Jack had expressed his wish to participate in this activity for valid reason. He endeavored to understand faith, if he was meant to do good in this world it was important to gain some of his own through experience. Dean admired his “If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well” attitude.

Sam had emailed their Jewish friend Aaron to ask for guidelines on how to properly observe the holiday. He and Dean were no strangers to preparing all manner of spells, incantations, and even prayers when required. They made sure to purchase candles that would last, as the length of time they burned each night depended on the day of the week.

It was the first night of Chanukah, they’d placed a lovely crystal Menorah on the library table, Jack was looking forward to playing the Dreidel game and singing the traditional prayer while lighting the candles before a nice meal. Cas lit the center candle called the Shamash, then the first candle to the right.

Jack began to sing:

“Chanuka is  
The Festival of Lights  
Instead of one day of presents  
We have eight crazy nights!”

 

Both brothers looked at each other in confusion. Then, doing their best to control the laughter bubbling out of themselves, they asked him if he knew what he was singing.

“It's called the Chanukah song, by um..Adam Sandler?”

Dean quickly turned away to compose himself. This was a sacred event, even he felt the need to respect it, no matter how innocent and amusing the situation was.

Sam explained, “This is a prayer many choose to offer in song. It’s an innocent mistake but next time maybe verify with one of us to make sure.”

Dean was controlled enough to turn around and begin anew. This time Cas began, he sang with a beautiful familiarity which reminded everyone he’d likely been hearing this prayer for thousands of years.

“Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai E-lo-he-nu Me-lech ha-olam a-sher ki-de-sha-nu be-mitz-vo-tav ve-tzi-va-nu le-had-lik ner Cha-nu-kah.  
Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai E-lo-he-nu Me-lech Ha-olam she-a-sa ni-sim la-avo-te-nu ba-ya-mim ha-hem bi-zman ha-zeh.”

After the prayer and lighting, Cas pulled Jack aside to say he’d undertaken a bit of research himself, but waited for this first special night to reveal more of Jack’s family history. A few days earlier, he'd learned Kelly's maternal grandparents were part of a small group of Jews fortunate enough to have escaped the Warsaw Ghetto uprising in Poland, during WWII.

“What's World War 2? What happened?” Jack asked nervously.

Castiel briefly explained the dark time in recent history in which Jews had suffered so terribly. Jack understandably had difficulty processing the logic behind the atrocity, but was glad his family escaped. Cas then shared that Kelly's paternal grandparents were Lutherans from a Chicago suburb. Jack was so delighted having a few more pieces to his puzzle, he thanked Cas with a big hug.

Dean thought the dinner was to die for. Sam had tried one of the family recipes Aaron sent. They scarfed down a beef brisket with roasted vegetables drenched in a creamy sauce. All but Cas were ready to pop by meal's end. Later, Dean washed the dishes while Sam played the Dreidel game with Jack. Cas grabbed a drying towel to help his favorite human.

“You made Jack’s night with the family info.”

“He means much to me, each of you do. I like seeing you happy," he replied, his eyes lingering on Deans. Their hands touched under the towel as Cas took a plate from him and he looked down suddenly. Dean saw a brief blush cross the angels face. His heart quickened, this unspoken thing was nearly tangible, he wished he could bring himself to do anything about it.

Later, after a few hot cocoas in the library, Dean was ready to turn in.

“Happy Chanukah Dean,” Cas wished with an expression he couldn't quite identify, but was pleasant nonetheless.

“Happy Chanukah, Cas. Same goes for you both,” waving goodnight to Sam and Jack.

 

~ Night 1~

At some point in the night, Dean dreamt he found himself reaching out for someone in a blur, a form he couldn't initially make out but slowly came into focus.

“Jo!” he happily exclaimed.

She took his hand, they were walking in a field of wildflowers towards a gravel path. He had to stop and hug her. She wiped a tear from his face and regarded with him with heartache. Dean understood her sorrow wasn't for her death, but for his hurt and regret over what happened.

“Jo it's so good to see you,” his voice was shaking, "Never got to say how sorry I am.”

She shushed him, gently placing her finger against his lips. She reached up on her tiptoes, kissed him sweetly on his cheek. With mischief in her eyes she led him to the roadhouse, or what it used to be. It was painted a light green, kids played basketball on the other side. When she brought him inside, he saw it had been remodeled into a cheerful center for local youth. Kids were playing pool, getting homework help, and creating art.

In an office, a woman sat at her desk wearing a face of warmth while counseling an upset girl. On the wall were small, colorful flags. He recognized the rainbow one, the pink, purple, and blue one, and another with purple black and white. He was relieved, those in charge clearly endeavored to make it a safe, happy place.

“This is the roadhouse now?”

She nodded, emphasizing with her eyes the children here received what they needed most. Dean briefly considered if Ellen and Jo were still alive, this place would still be a bar. Jo’s eyes brightened as if she was saying “Bingo!”

They walked outside, “We miss you and Ellen.”

She stood again on her tiptoes, placed her forehead against his. She was saying they were fine, he needn’t fret anymore. Jo gave him another kiss on the cheek and disappeared.

He woke up with wet eyes but calm, like being covered with blanket by a loved one. He realized another comforter had been placed on him. Cas and coffee were what he needed right then, they were chicken soup for the soul. He bundled up and shuffled out to the kitchen.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” he whispered.

Cas smiled as he handed Dean coffee, asking how he’d slept. Cas sheepishly confessed, “You were shivering earlier, I heard you from the library, didn't want you to catch cold.”

“Er thanks,” he said with a gulp. “Had a weird dream, but I feel more rested than usual.”

“That’s good to hear. Get dressed, pack your overnight bag. Sam’s taking Jack to Lawrence, he’s asked about your family. There's a traditional Christmas parade there, we’re leaving in half an hour. “

Dean rolled his eyes in not-quite-disdain. Lawrence was not his favorite place, for reasons that sprung painful childhood memories. An hour out, Sam asked for Christmas tunes just to bug the shit out of Dean but under the guise Jack should hear all the goofy songs, for pop culture references. Gritting his teeth Dean conceded, but found himself amused by Cas’s reactions. He revelled in the angels confused annoyance to the lyrics of “Grandma got ran over by a reindeer,” as they pulled into West View Motel, a carbon copy of every other run-of-the-mill spot they'd stayed over the years.

Before heading out to dinner for ribs on the second night of Chanuka, they lit the Menorah and sang. Seeing the ill fated house that afternoon was jarring since they’d gotten Mary back, only to have lost her again. Wounds of the past never closed, no matter how Dean locked, bolted, and barricaded the doors to each painful memory. What good did it do to hope for a normal future if it would always be ripped away? He fell asleep restless, meeting with another odd dream.

 

~Night 2~

He found himself in a wooded area, he heard crunching foliage behind him and turned to see Kevin. Dean wanted him to be real. His friend waltzed up, giving him a hug.

“Man it's great to see you!” He hugged him back with equal enthusiasm.

They walked towards a hill, the view was lovely. Dean recognized the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia. A sting of regret spread through Dean's chest, Kevin shook his head as if saying, “Don't go there.”

“I’m so sorry Kevin. You didn’t deserve to go like that. If I’d just listened to my gut and not kicked Cas out, he would've sensed something, you’d be alive, making your mom so proud.”

Kevin placed his hand over Dean's. Immediately they were in front of a massive library.

“Stanford?” Dean asked.

Kevin's face was serious as he pointed to the Librarian kindly ushering out students, including Kevin. Everyone was animated in their discussion, not paying attention to a car swerving in and out of its lane towards the crosswalk they were approaching. Dean hollered as the car rounded the curb, but Kevin plus two were hit. One bounced onto the grass, Kevin and a girl disappeared under the front wheel. The rise and fall of the vehicle's entire drivers side told everything.

Touching his hand, Kevin took him to his home where Mrs.Tran moved about busily, she was quite gaunt looking as she disappeared into a nearby room. Dean silently followed, finding an emaciated Kevin lying in a hospital bed, his mother caring for him as well as possible with assistance. Kevin tapped a newspaper on the dresser, Dean checked the date-May 29, 2027. Linda sat next to her son, who was attached to all manner of equipment. She was at the end of her rope, Kevin was dwindling. Dean understood this was his fate, had he not been killed by Gadreel. He gave Dean a reassuring smile as if saying, “Gadreel was a much better way to go than this.”

“But your mom Kevin, either way she’s alone.. it's on me.”

Kevin's face lit up, he put an image of a cell phone in Dean's mind. He hugged him and disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning Jack brought him coffee with a goofy, excited smirk. He noticed Cas examining him over his newspaper. 

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Dean greeted softly. 

“How did you sleep Dean?” the angel wondered. 

“Another weird dream, but alright.”

“Dean, the parade starts in an hour, can we go find a spot to set up so we get a good view?” Jack asked.

Dean silently pointed at his coffee cup and raised his hand as if to say “Hold yer horses. Lemme power up first and we’ll get going.”

Jack loved the parade, he couldn't get over the massive draft horses and tilted his head quizzically at Santa Claus. Dean was somewhat irritated by the spectacle, but pleased Jack was getting that much out of the experience. They drove home that afternoon and sang the Chanukah prayer, then enjoyed a simple meal, followed by chocolate cake.

It hit the spot, everyone was stuffed and sleepy. As bedtime rolled around he stood to turn in, and Cas got up too. He hugged Dean, wishing him a Happy Chanukah again with an unreadable expression. 

 

~Night 3~

He huddled in bed, after grabbing another blanket, then drifted off and found himself in a field.

“Heads up Princess!” 

Dean’s heart pounded in his chest when he recognized the voice and turned to see Bobby throwing a baseball at his face. He caught it just in time. 

“Bobby what in hell…”

“Guess again idjit,” Bobby sassed right back.

“I ain't dead so what gives?” Dean asked. His heart lurched a little, knowing this wouldn't last.

“What are you doin’ to yourself?” Bobby asked, concerned. ”You’ve got the most important person in your life back and you're keepin’ him at arm’s length..how many times he hafta die before you give him your heart?” 

That stopped Dean in his tracks. How did Bobby know?

“Awh don't gimme that horseshit. You can practically see the tension from space so spare me the playin’ dumb routine and just do what makes you happy.”

Dean dithered for a moment. “What's the point? Yeah ok, I love him but my track record is crap. Anybody I care about dies because of me. Case and point Bobby…” he said, his breath hitching while pointing to him.

“I was a hunter, was there any other way? I went out with my boots on. I loved you and Sam like you were my own. You boys made me so damn happy and proud. You kept me busy, I had purpose and I’m grateful for that. We all die Dean, that ain't exactly news. You, Sam, and Wings McGee are the weird ones Death keeps spitting back out for some reason. Seems the one lesson you haven't learned is to let go and allow yourself some life. Denying your heart is a living death, I did it for years until you boys came around.”

It's so hard to let things go. 

“Cause your guilt is the only thing you let prop yer dead ass up. Try letting..I dunno..a person hold you up? An angel maybe? Why do you think he stays around Dean? Sam’s a good guy, but he doesn't get googly eyed and lick his lips every time a halo pops in the room now does he? The angel chose YOU, you matter to him.”

Dean was too conflicted to respond. 

“C’mere son,” Bobby said, slowly walking towards him. 

Dean gave him a grizzly bear hug. “Miss you. Wish you could meet Jack, he’s a decent kid.”

“I’ve heard. You be good to him.”

“Yes Sir.”

Bobby hugged him again, “I’m damn proud of you.” He vanished right before Dean's eyes. 

He woke up with a pain in his chest. What’s with all the ghost dreams? Was he turning into Ebeneezer Scrooge, in need of intervention? Best get up, maybe there’ll be a case to distract us. 

Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch. It was plain weird. Dean recruited Jack to help him clean the dungeon which ended up taking most of the day, it had been a while. 

Later, the Menorah had been lit for the fourth night of Chanukah and Jack asked Dean to play the Dreidel game. A few rounds in, Dean noticed on his turns the small wooden spinner landed more often than not, on a particular symbol.

“Any idea what this one means?” he queried to Jack.

“Gimel, the third letter in the Hebrew alphabet. If you turn it sideways it looks like a foot. Gimel sounds like gomel, someone who gives to others. I’ve read about the symbolism, and many interpret it as someone who is in a position to give, they are running to help someone weak or in need. So basically a benefactor giving someone what they're greatly in need of,” Jack explained, proud to share some knowledge.

“Alright, good stuff. Cool.”

 

Late in the evening, after everyone else had hit the hay, Dean and Cas finished an Eastwood flick. As Cas stood, Dean wrapped him up tight in his arms. He felt an urge deep inside to kiss him, as if doing so would bring his soul home. 

“Happy Chanukah Cas,” he whispered in the angels ear. He felt a shiver run through him, “You alright? Caught a chill?” Dean wondered.

“No,um. I’m good Dean, sleep well,” but his ears were pink and he quickly busied himself. 

~ Night 4~

Dean slid into bed hoping he hadn't crossed a line, maybe Cas only preferred initiating hugs. Dean had lived with this ache for him so long now, it was a constant companion but by no means kind. Feeling a warm body curled into him, specifically Cas's body, was what he craved so fiercely. He shoved it down though, he was all too accustomed to the prickly sting of disappointment. He took a deep breath and blew it out harshly so the lump in his throat wouldn't get the best of him. He tucked a spare pillow against his chest like a teddy bear and fell away to more strange dreams. 

He was on a boat, his attention drawn to Benny, who was offering him a beer and holding a blood bag for himself. 

“Long time Dean, how are things topside?” 

“Benny!” Dean almost cried. He rushed to hug him and it was well received.

“That rough huh?” Benny stated.

“Nah, it's good...real good. Always something, ya know?” his voice cracking, betraying him. “Sure miss you, wish I could bring you back.”

“Now why would ya want that?” Benny asked, his eyes boring holes into his soul. Benny always knew what fuzzies were floating around in his headspace. “Believe it or not, things happen for a reason. I’ve got some friends I want ya to meet,” the vampire said with a pleased look on his face. 

He held Dean's arm and they were standing near a barn. He could hear people talking. Benny opened the door and there stood Lenore, speaking to a small group of vampires. She'd been busy since he and Sam let her go. This wasn't the only group of vampires she’d been rallying to her cause. She was speaking of Benny's death, not in retribution, but in admiration for the human he’d forged a friendship with. Somehow it was known Dean murdered him, but had desperately not wanted to and also how Dean treated Ketch's vampire as a sentient being rather than the mindless horror BMoL viewed her. 

Dean was the example, if vampires changed their diet and treated humans as allies and friends, their existence might shift from eminent extinction to that of alliance or at least peaceful coexistence. The Winchesters were off limits, as the new Alpha she decreed it. A new era would begin or they would simply die out, this was the choice they needed to share with others and implore them to consider. 

“Seems our last parting started sumthin’ worthwhile after all,” Benny said clapping his hand on Dean's shoulder, “can't carry on being regretful over it now can ya?”

What on earth am I supposed to say to that? 

“I'm alright. You're gonna be alright Dean. Take one day at a time, trust enough for that day, let the next worry about itself,” Benny softly advised. He gave Dean another big hug, then was gone. 

 

Dean startled awake, he found Cas sitting in his desk chair. The thought of him there, maybe even closer than the chair, was comforting. 

“Jack is getting quite anxious to decorate for Christmas, might we allow him to trim the tree today?”

“Sure, why not. Doesn’t seem like we’d be doing much else.” 

While there were moments he lost himself in the spirit and enjoyed the revelry, Cas could tell he was still struggling. He knew Dean's heart and emotional climate better than anyone(despite not always being aware of it himself) but his faith had been severely shaken since the Lake House. Cas wasn't sure what happened between that night and when he’d come back but it was evident the brothers had suffered tremendously. He was doing everything he could to help and hoped he’d improve as time went on.

They’d found a 16 foot silvertip to place in the library across the Samurai swords. They carefully hung various ornaments as Chuck Berry's “Run, Run Rudolph” played in the background. Jack wore a grin while Uncle Moose reached high above him, placing bulbs. Sam preferred the antique-ish ornaments, Dean purchased the classic cars series, they didn't have baby but he managed to get a ‘66 Impala and a royal blue ‘67 Malibu. Cas said ornaments were nice by themselves but looked completely ridiculous on a tree. Jack liked the Scooby Doo series and vintage Willy Wonka. Cas was told to choose bulbs since he refused to select anything else, so in retaliation he insisted on brushed metallic blue, orange and green bulbs. The lights were kinda rainbow colored, when one stepped back to admire the hodge podge atrocity from afar. 

“It's fucking hideous,” Dean sighed, eyes closed and resigned. “And yet, so us. Missing one thing though,” he muttered, jogging to his bedroom. He reemerged with something tucked under his arm, climbed the ladder, and watched the resident celestials tilt their heads, eyes squinting in unison as he placed the last piece of Christmas tree decor on the tippy top. 

Sam smirked, “Been trolling the Hot Topical, have we? Gotta have another sit down with Chuck, if he ever returns this millennium.”

“Shut up!” Dean issued, placing his arms around Cas and Jack, feeling the eggnog finally taking effect. They stood in awe at the ridiculous angel plushie guarding the library.

“When did Cas replace us as the hot merchandise?” Sam sassed.

“That ain't Cas! Guess Chuck's got wifi on Proxima Centauri or wherever the hell he’s hiding out, now we know why. Didn't we have that chat with him? That's Jack. Tan suit, lighter brown hair, black tie.”

Jack's face lit up like fireworks, “That’s me? Did my grandfather make this?”

“Yeah, go ahead. Explain the Supernatural series to him Dean,” Sam said in amusement. 

Dean rolled his eyes, kicked himself figuratively, and went for more eggnog. 

Hours later, the Menorah was lit for night number five, they happily sang the prayer, and later the nog had taken it's toll on Dean. It was buzz o’clock so he mumbled holiday wishes, then collapsed in a heap onto his bed. 

 

~Night 5~

He found himself in The Black Spur. At the corners edge sipping on a fruity drink, sat the former King of Hell, Crowley himself. 

“Squirrel, sans Moose and Giraffe I see,” Crowley drawled with a low, gravely voice, “What? The boy band break up after my grand departure?”

He grabbed a bar stool and pulled up a seat. “........I tried Crowley, even prayed for Chuck to bring you back.”

“So I’ve heard,” he busied himself picking at a napkin, “that was...unexpected.” The former King looked up at him, aside from the trials, Dean had never seen him this vulnerable. 

“Strange how things change, who would’ve thought a Winchester would remember the late monarch of Hell in his prayers?....... Thank you.”

“Don't mention it. You my ghost of Chanukah past, present...or..?”

The blonde guy serving drinks came over with an overly enthusiastic smile, immediately Dean cut him off, “Shot of Jack and NO.” 

“Not the Deanmon I knew and loved, passing up a perfectly good one nighter. Ah those triplets, remember? Tell me, Castiel finally managed to obtain your full and undivided?”

Dean found himself capable of a degree of honesty with Crowley barely anyone was privy to. Dean genuinely appreciated his attempt to reel him in during his demon phase. This subject however, was not on the table for discussion, nor would it ever be with the late king.

“What’ve you been up to since...?”

“Ah yes, well..still a monarch of sorts. Purgatory to be exact. Ours hath deemed yours truly ‘persona non grata’, but since I chose my demise in Monochromatica and a position of leadership had conveniently opened up, what can I say? I’m an opportunist at heart. Admittedly it's not as civilized as Hell, but the rewards are simply..marveilleux. Allow me to introduce my C.E.O. and-”

“And?” a sultry voice asked from behind Dean. The hair on his neck raised painfully as ice ran down his spine. 

“Billie” Dean stated, trying not to sound nervous. 

“Hiya Dean, enjoying your kumbaya moment?” 

“Still my dream to enjoy, right?”

“Is it?” she challenged.

“Lemme guess, you're my ghost of Chanukah Future?” he smartassed.

“Oh I’m no ghost,” she stated, facing Dean. But I AM everybody's future...yours included. That's a guarantee.”

Dean couldn't help notice the intense look of pride and...heart eyes on Crowley. Are they-

Everything in the bar froze, Crowley included, like a movie on pause. “Reminder Dean, the time I call upon you is soon, it won't all be pie in the sky.”

“Anything involving Death usually isn't, no offense.”

“None taken, yet. Let me share some wisdom with you. Use this opportunity wisely. You're going to need it like a fish needs water.”

“What opportunity?” Dean asked, having no clue what she meant. But by then she’d snapped her fingers and the pause had released, she and Crowley disappeared in a swirl of smoke.


	3. Chapter 3

Suddenly he was sitting bolt upright in bed, sheet soaked in sweat. He grabbed everything and dumped it in the laundry for morning, then took a shower to clear his head. Returning to his room, he found Cas quietly sitting in his desk chair. 

He looked soft and concerned, “Are you ill?”

“Nah, just uh..unsettling dream. It happens.”

Cas appeared reproachful and Dean felt like he'd burdened him unnecessarily.

“I’ll be fine Cas, guess this time of year ghosts of my own come to call,” he smiled wistfully. Emotionally drained and still sleepy, he tested, “W-would you stay, until I fall asleep?” His heart began to race in anxious hope.

Cas wore a look of awe, “I’ll watch over you, yes. It doesn’t bother you, like before?” 

“No, not anymore Cas,” he said, looking into the angel's brilliant blues with a wishful heart. 

Cas held his gaze, “That makes me very happy Dean,” he fidgeted with his hands and broke eye contact, “I missed you.”

Dean crawled back under the covers so Cas wouldn't see his cheeks burning and whispered, “I missed you more,” knowing the angel could hear him. He slept soundly and awakened the next morning feeling better. 

The next day he and Sam cleaned weapons and did an inventory check. Cas and Jack were in a nearby field practicing teleporting accuracy, the day was incredibly cold but clear. By evening it had been a productive day for all, they joyfully sang the Menorah prayer and settled in to watch Adam Sandler's 8 Crazy Nights. Jack and Dean both laughed hysterically at the poopsicle scene.

Dean found himself hoping Cas would ask to watch over him, but there was no privacy to be had when saying good night. So he fell asleep in the silent comfort of the dark with warm thoughts of holding him.

 

~Night 6~

Dean was in Ladow’s Market on Main Street, in Lebanon. He’d been enjoying a cherry pie roll up when Missouri waltzed up with an expression of humor. He gave her a hug, she of course sensed his guilt and rubbed his back in comfort. Then she held his hand, sending images of all the ways the case would've gone had she not made her sacrificial move. There was simply no other choice, the wraith would've found her family regardless. It was hard for him to accept. Missouri sensed his struggle and placed her other hand over his heart. She looked into his eyes with intense concentration, showing him her son and granddaughter. 

She conveyed how good people never hesitate to try protecting the ones they love. He saw a powerful image of Cas as he lit up with Lucifer's blade in him. She steadied him when the horror hit, emotions slammed through him like a tidal wave. But they weren't his emotions. Right before Lucifer stabbed him, Cas felt relief at seeing Sam and Dean safe on the correct side of the rift. The angel felt a glimmer of hope he could be with the man he loved so much, but never had the courage to tell. Then it was ripped away….

Dean was in shock, it wasn't every day you experienced death and came back, sure he’d done it an obscene amount of times but never had he felt someone else’s. The emotional loss Cas felt at that moment overshadowed his physical torment. Dean never wanted to feel that again. When he recovered, Missouri hugged him and silently thanked him for saving her family, it meant so much to her, then she was gone. 

He woke up wondering why these dreams, so powerful and personal, were happening now. What was the likelihood of these people visiting all at once? It felt good to see them, but they were just dreams right? 

Since there were no cases, he thought a search could be a worthwhile endeavor for the morning. He found Cas making coffee and pulling out bacon for him. Dean felt fuzzy inside at his favorite angel being so domestic. God, he just wanted to give him a kiss with his, “Mornin’ Sunshine,” so badly. He noticed Cas look at him curiously as he replied, “Good morning to you too.” 

He perused a few sites at the breakfast table while Cas sipped his coffee, patiently waiting for morning conversation.

“No way..no..no..” he gasped, covering his mouth in shock.

Cas's curiosity prompted, “Is everything alright Dean?”

Dean showed Cas pictures of a cheerful building with bright colors and children playing outside. The sign read, “Haven” and the article stated, “a youth center setting the bar for rural communities everywhere.” 

“This was Ellen's roadhouse, Jo showed me...I didn't think it meant anything. It was just a dream,” Dean whispered, taken completely by surprise. 

Cas read aloud, “Says after the mysterious disappearance of the owner several years ago, it went to auction and became a community spot for children. Dean, this place does good things, something positive IS happening from a terrible situation. Does it bring you much comfort?”

“Well yeah, of course. The kids there were happy and those that weren't had people trying to help. I just can't believe it's real,” Dean exhaled.

That afternoon Dean called Mrs.Tran and found a jovial woman on the other end of the line. He excused the call with holiday curiosity and wishes, which she gladly reciprocated. She'd renewed her teaching license and remodeled the garage into a maker lab as a small, but useful satellite site for her local community college. Funding had been cut, and since she’d loved helping Kevin with all his projects, she felt called to help those interested in engineering careers. She’d found a way to take the institutions overflow so graduation wasn't on hold for so many students.

Dean was blown away. He understood now, had Kevin survived to attend Stanford and suffer the accident, she never would’ve had the energy or funds to undertake such a noble endeavor. Fate had allowed something incredible to grow from the loss. Everything felt a little brighter, he got through the day with a definite pep in his step.

Cas gravitated toward him heavily for the rest of the day, he even caught the angel staring at him with dismay. That night, the seventh of Chanukah, they sang the prayer and lit the Menorah. He sang the words he knew now by heart with a joy which had initially been absent. Even Sam gave him an all encompassing bro hug usually reserved for the sappiest of moments, and wished him Happy Chanukah. Cas lingered a little after Jack had offered his holiday wishes to Dean, complete with a hug as well. 

“Your spirits seem much improved. It's a relief to see some of your old self returning,” Cas stated, obviously quite pleased. 

“It was a good day Cas, felt like I could take a deep breath...and move.”

Dean thought he looked plain tickled, which made his tummy curl and do flips flops. 

I wish he wanted to be mine. 

Cas looked confused for a moment, just as he moved to speak a beloved dinner moose hollered, “Chow time!” Dean sighed in mourning for all the missed opportunities they’d had and nudged Cas into the kitchen with him. 

~Night 7~

That night, he dreamt he’d somehow wound up strapped into a Waco UBF-2 floatplane holding on for dear life as the the pilot treated him to barrel rolls. He wanted to puke but then saw quite a few plastic danger noodles down at his feet.

“God Dammit! Get me out now!!!”

Laughter came from in front and the plane landed on what looked like the Amazon, he couldn't see who the pilot but was certain it was a girl.

“Dean that's not the line I expected! I hung back on purpose to set this whole thing up, the least you could do is play along correctly!” 

Dean froze as the pilot turned, pulled off her cap and goggles to reveal a shock of red hair. Deans face hurt from how hard he was grinning. He shot up from the seat to grab Charlie tight and never let go. It surprised him how quickly the tears came, he sobbed..mostly from happiness at seeing her again. She held him patiently, letting him feel what he needed to. 

After he calmed she examined him, "How's it going Dean?”

“Snakes….why did it have to be snakes?” He finally issued in placation of her effort to welcome him to dreamland. “I'm alright, you?”

“Peachy. Heard you're in a low spot, that doesn't sound like you. What can I do?”

“I’m sorry, have you met me? When is something NOT trying to kill me or Sam? It's kind of our running M.O.”

“Not what I meant and you know it.”

She had the biggest bullshit meter where he was concerned, so he knew he was done.

“We lost everybody, everything. I had Sam, but also the kid who I blamed for it all. I know it wasn't his fault, he’s a good kid. We got Cas back. I'm trying to pull myself out of this funk, it's getting a bit easier. Just kinda hard to see the point when I can't save anyone I love.”

“Nobody put it on you Dean. Who said it's your gig to get everybody out alive? How’s that realistic? You get how absurd that is right?” 

“............guess it's something I grew up with. I dropped the ball with Sam and so many others, including you.”

“Dean you only fail if you never try, all I EVER saw you do was try.You’re a badass superhero with the power of lightning ingenuity, but you sure can be yer own kryptonite sometimes.”

“No shit.”

Charlie giggled mischievously. She reached for his face and touched his cheek gently, a series of numbers stuck in his mind. She rolled her eyes, “I love you.”

He sweetly responded, “I know.”

She smiled, “There’s Dean Winchester.” 

 

He woke up with sunshine in his heart. 

“Dean, is everything alright?” he heard Cas ask. 

“If you're really here then it is,” he mumbled sleepily. Oh shit, did I say that out loud???

“That's a nice complement,” Cas said. 

Dean sat up to verify he wasn't still dreaming. He caught an angel, fire engine red in the face, trying not to look at him directly. Instinctively he scrambled to the edge of the bed, covers flying everywhere. 

“Why do you do that Cas? You used to look at me more, I used to see so much in those eyes but you won't let yourself as often, I wanna know why. Have I done something?”

Cas's eyes widened greatly, “No, you haven't.”

“Then why does this,” Dean said gesturing between them, “feel different? Sometimes I feel like I get it, I finally understand us. But then, I dunno, you close off or something.”

“I noticed the same about you.”

“Are we good? We’re cool then?” 

“We’re good,” Cas said flatly, though Dean could tell his face was trying to depict relief and fell short.

Dean was about to call him on it when Jack came in speaking excitedly about snow. It was his first time experiencing it, there was nothing else to do but bundle up and head out. His frustration was palpable, but he forced it aside to give Jack an engaging, fun time like he deserved. 

They taught him how to build a snowman, Sam’s long arms were pretty helpful in rolling out the body. When they were almost finished, Dean noticed something peculiar and covered his mouth to silence a childish giggle. 

“Oh look, Santa finally delivered your sense of humor eh Sam?” Dean joked.

Sam shot him a clueless glance and Dean knew it hadn't been him after all. He looked at Jack who wore the same expression, then to Cas who stood there with that damned little smile of pride he wore whenever he’d humaned correctly. 

“Cas did you just pull a Dumb and Dumber by giving him junk?” Dean asked with surprised delight in between fits and giggles at the carrot and pine cones sticking out.

“Yes.”

“Well played Sir,” Dean complimented as the flood of laughter continued.

They dubbed him Junkman and when he was complete, a snowball fight ensued. Hours later, after hot showers and spiced cider had suitably defrosted them, they settled in to teach Jack how to play Crazy 8’s.

With some time left before dinner, Dean decided to search if the numbers Charlie showed him meant anything. Enlisting Sam’s help, they both were astonished to learn somehow, her death triggered a network of allies who destroyed the Stynes through cyber attack. Every last cent they’d amassed had been diverted to various accounts. They explained to Cas and Jack how millions of dollars had been anonymously donated to Doctors without Borders, with a request it be allocated specifically to patients with life threatening deformities who would otherwise perish without intervention. 

Dean needed air, he’d carried such an enormous emotional burden over the years for those he loved who’d been taken from him. It felt as if a dam had burst and all the negativity he’d bottled for so long poured out of him. Nothing would bring back the family and friends he’d lost, but discovering how others were benefiting from the aftermath helped him feel so much better. He collected himself and rejoined the family with warmth in his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

They lit the Menorah for the last night of Chanukah and sang the prayer enthusiastically. The Latkes with mushrooms and sour cream they’d decided on for dinner were a huge hit. Sam was getting a cold so he wished everyone a happy holiday then slunk off to his room with a bottle of “Grandpa's cough syrup.” Dean left Jack in the library to Netflix a while and found Cas by the oven, obviously standing guard over something smelling delicious. His mood was such that he sauntered up behind Cas and leaned his chin to rest on the angel's left shoulder, watching him carefully touch and test what was clearly a batch of Snickerdoodle cookies. 

“Whaaaatcha doooin’?” Dean sang mischievously. 

Wow! He smells like cinnamon and sugar, I want to kiss his neck..and crap I gotta lay off the Phineas and Ferb reruns with Jack, what the hell just came outta my mouth?

“Making cookies and pie is a holiday tradition, is it not?” the angel asked.

Cas stiffly stood at the counter, like a statue, until Dean straightened himself up from the childish stance with concealed embarrassment. Ok, um maybe he didn't like that?

“Yeah, it is,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. 

“Will you taste it?” Cas asked, his ears were a little pink. The angel was trying not to beam at Dean but failing miserably. 

Oh? Maybe I just caught him off guard.

“Sure, but have one with me? Everyone deserves a cookie, even you Cas,” Dean did his best not to appear a lovesick idiot but knew from the look on Cas's face he too was failing miserably. 

The angel absentmindedly said “open” and Dean did as if it were the most natural thing. Walking over to the kitchen table with a Snickerdoodle in his mouth, it was slightly burning his tongue but he didn't give a damn. Until it really started burning and it dropped in his hand.

“Are you alright?” Cas rushed over to him.

“Just burned my tongue, no big deal.”

“I’m sorry, they weren't quite as cool as I thought, let me get you some ice.” 

Dean started to protest but Cas had already grabbed a cube from the freezer and popped it in his mouth before he could fuss. The ice was so cold it stuck to the burnt part of his tongue, he puffed and made his lips into an O shape. It poked out of his mouth, but was firmly stuck. 

“Oh I’m sorry, dammit!” he fussed.

“I ftheel like Ralthies fthend from A Chrithmas Thtory” Dean said half hurting, half laughing. 

“Yes, but a flag pole is far less sanitary. That really is stuck isn't it? Guess you’ll have to wait for it to melt. I’m sorry Dean.” 

Cas was right there, pressed against him, gazing back with eyes full of concern, and something else. Dean knew exactly what else because it was the same “else” he was feeling. How the ice hadn't melted already from the blaze between them was a mystery.

“Maybe-this might be disgusting and disagreeable to you but stick your tongue out, when it gets too cold I can try to put it in my mouth to melt it quicker,” Cas suggested, becoming so red in the face he could barely get the words out. 

Deans heart rate sky rocketed, if this was what he thought the angel was suggesting, then who was he to refuse? With as much smolder as he could manage in this ridiculous situation, he leaned in to Cas and said, “I lite da way you thhheenk, two tonguesth are bedder than one.” 

Aah wtf? Smooth, you were not. Sounded embarrassing you did.

The angels eyes were huge as Dean's words sunk in and his tongue stuck out. Both of them leaned forward, Cas’s lips felt soft and hot against Dean's frozen tongue. The rest of his body melted into a puddle of goo. Snickerdoodle, cherry pie goo. Cas was gently sucking on his tongue with his eyes closed. Dean didn't have it in him to close his, he was savoring this moment- hot, weird, and comical as it was. He finally just went with it and began slowly retracting his tongue so the angel would have to get closer to his lips, they were almost there anyhow. Cas opened his eyes and saw the sparkle of mischief in Dean's. He started letting go in embarrassment but Dean slid his arms around his waist, saying softly while gazing into the pools of blue, “C’mr ad justh kisth me Cath.” 

Cas raised one eyebrow to assess, Dean waggled both of his so the angel dove right in. He tugged at the ice cube which still didn't budge but was smaller, so he swirled his tongue around all the exposed sides while trying to delicately press his lips against Deans. He held the humans face in his hands like he’d always wanted. He could feel their hearts racing together as Dean tightened his hold. 

Plaid melded to accountant attire, it wasn't the way he’d dreamed it would go but at this point Dean had his angel in his arms, their lips pressed together, who cared about the particulars? Cas's mouth was so warm and sweet, he’d obviously snuck a bite.

He heard someone’s sharp intake of breath in the doorway and froze, he opened his eyes to see an ailing moose out of his paddock wearing a blank expression.

Dean extracted his tongue from Cas’s mouth carefully, “Ith coo, he was juth thucking on my pewb.” 

Crap! That did not come out right! 

“Thpb!” he spit out the now loose ice chip onto the floor, “I meant my cube.”

Sam rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “Uh-huh. It was called tonsil hockey back in the day, only we did it without the puck.”

Dean stood up straight and shot back, “Then you were doin’ it wrong. It’s not any fun without the puck.”

“Whatever. Just no pucking in the kitchen,” Sam smirked as he swiped a cookie. 

“Oh there’ll be pucking alright,” Dean barked, refusing to back down. 

Sam left with a vaguely traumatized look, then stifled laughter trailed behind him down the hall.

Dean turned back to Cas who was looking at him somewhat irked.

He immediately tried to explain, “That..that was..uh..crap...just ..brother...banter..” 

Cas continued to stare, expression unmoving, Dean's stomach dropped to the floor.

Fix this now dammit. 

He held Cas close, “Please tell me what just happened, minus the Moosus Interruptus part, was a good thing.” 

Cas stood there, eyes still wide. Dean's heart fell as he considered the silence a sign he’d just destroyed everything. 

Cas’s voice was crackled, as if he’d awakened from a million year nap. “I never expected you’d want that with me. I didn't misread?”

Relief flooded through him, “No, no I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” He wrapped his arms more tightly around this solid man-angel, feeling truly at home for the first time in his life as Cas burrowed into his chest. 

“Wanna try that again?” Dean asked, his voice full of hope.

Cas nodded, holding Dean more tightly. He looked up at this human he loved more than all the stars in the universe and brushed his lips against Dean's which were now warm. Both of them felt a precious sense of “belonging.” Dean would now forever associate kissing with cookies and he’d never want it any other way.

“Something smells good, what did you guys make?” Jack asked, walking in as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Cas slowly pulled away from Dean who grabbed his tie, refusing to be parted from him. He rested his forehead against the angel's; never breaking eye contact he said, “Snickerdoodles and pie. Help yourself kiddo.” He expected hesitation, awkwardness, even a question or two from Jack. Nope. 

The kid served himself a small plate and departed as if he’d left them making a grocery list. Dean never anticipated a negative reception to the idea of him and Cas, but it puzzled him that it wasn't surprising to either Jack or Sam. He grabbed a few cookies, held Cas's hand, and headed for the library. 

He and Cas sat near Jack who was trying the cherry pie Cas had made. 

“This is delicious, Castiel will you teach me how to make it?” Jack pleaded with his adopted father. 

Cas’s chest puffed slightly and he wore that subtle expression Dean knew meant he was proud of himself. He was damn proud of him too. 

“I would be most happy to show you, yes.”

Jack grinned, then stuffed another bite in his mouth, “It feels like you're both extra happy today, I’m glad.”

“Well, um..things are kinda different now,” Dean attempted to answer awkwardly.

Jack swallowed some pie and replied, “No they aren’t. Well, wait..what do you mean? You were being affectionate, cuddling? This is normal human behavior for people in love, is it not?” his face showed slight curiosity.

Both Dean and Cas felt their ears get hot, niether had mentioned the L word but each knew that's exactly what they felt. 

“Yes, but how do you mean things aren’t different? You don't seem surprised..” Cas wondered.

“I felt it-you, before I was born. When we shared, whatever it is-your concern for my mother. How you cared for Sam, and your love for Dean was..is..powerful. You feel so much for people, I wanted you to be my family. But when I arrived Dean was so upset. He, you,” he turned to look at Dean, “your grief for him made you sick, you wanted to die. Since he's back you’re getting better, happier. That’s what love is right? Missing the other person when they're gone, but when they're here you enjoy happiness and affection with them? From what I’ve read this is how it's supposed to be. You both are together and happy, right?”

Dean’s mouth upturned on one side, “Yeah, I am.”

“Very much.” Cas agreed. 

Jack closed his eyes, “I’ll always miss my mom. But I like being around you two. You feel good to me...like sunshine, like the Shamash! You both fought to find your sustaining light in darkness, by a miracle it happened. Sam is so kind to me, all of you are my family. I think I’m beginning to understand faith now because I have it in us.”

“I'm proud to call you family Jack, still workin’ on the faith part,” Dean told him, as he stood up, “seems like everyday, something a member of this family does helps me get a small piece of it back. Happy Chanukah kiddo,” giving him a hearty Winchester hug.

“I’ll be back shortly,” Cas told Jack, who’d been in the middle of an X Files binge with his laptop.

Dean couldn't help the sting of disappointment, he wasn't sure what he expected, but he hoped to at least lay down with Cas for more of the “cuddling” Jack had referred to. 

He walked in his room, Cas closed the door behind him, leaning against it. He just stood staring at Dean, wondering if they wanted the same.

For the last time this year he wished him well on the sacred holiday, “Happy Chanukah Dean.”

When Dean turned around Cas noted embers in his eyes, but they were quickly replaced with a soft longing within his fragile, precious human soul.

Dean moved towards him with a pleasant, dreamy expression and wrapped his arms around the angel's waist. He slumped into Cas's embrace resting his head on his shoulder and drank in the hint of cookies from earlier. In this celestial's arms he could finally be himself, he was free to be weak and tired, could feel sad and defeated, or be deliriously in love and rejoice his feelings were reciprocated. With Cas he was allowed to let all emotions run their course without judgement or time limit..well, mostly. 

Cas had business with Jack obviously, so Dean was jealous and he wasn't jealous. He’d been a parent all his life and understood time was sacred. He felt his soul smile watching Jack with his chosen 'father’, no one in the universe had a better heart for it than Cas. But he also wanted to bury himself under the bedcovers and snuggle with this man-angel until eternity itself had run out. Lifting his head, he grazed his lips along Cas's jaw line, which yielded a shiver. 

That's what was up with him! Me hugging him threw his well practiced composure! Good to know…..

Dean nuzzled Cas’s nose with his own, finding it adorable how he stretched his neck up for a kiss. 

“Cas, if we kiss now I’m afraid you won't be leaving this room anytime soon.”

Admittedly, he was finding self control difficult too, but the look on Cas’s face was of undeniable internal war. The angel was actually pained, and it was the most amusing, flattering gesture Dean had ever felt.

“I'm terribly conflicted. On one hand, he and I have work. On the the other, I don't want you out of my arms. Do you have any idea how troubling this is?”

Dean's shoulders shook with laughter as he hugged Cas more tightly. “Go do your thing. I’ll manage alone, as I always have.”

Cas’s face fell, but then he caught on as Dean backed away from his celestial cookie jar. “You're being an ass. I won't fall for it,” he grinned at Dean, pleased he’d read him correctly.

“You’re learning,” Dean winked as Cas tried to slither out into the hall. Just as he did, Dean pulled his tie back slightly and pressed his lips against Cas's who squeaked at the surprise attack. He soon melted and their tongues teased each others mercilessly, Cas sighed contentedly when Dean's hand went south. He was only going to pull Cas back into a hug, but all a Moosus Inebriatus heard and saw was a lustful angel sighing with his lower half out in the hall and his brother's hand heading south of proper. 

Sam stumbled by with a lopsided grin and obnoxiously commanded, “Guys! Get-eth a rooom!” Stopping short, he looked around and lazily faced Dean, “Yer room...Jerk!” laughing a little to himself. 

“Get back ta bed Bitch!”

“Yo-you..I resemble that remark…”

“That's the spirit Sammy, don't let anyone tell you different,” Dean stifled a chuckle at his brother who ambled unsteadily to the bathrooms. 

“Nighty night,” Dean winked. He blew Cas a sarcastic kiss, leaving one hot and bothered angel out to dry. Dean fell into bed and asleep much faster than anticipated.

 

~Night 8~

The kitchen walls of his childhood home settled with nostalgic familiarity. A man stooped in front of the refrigerator, the door blocked Dean’s view but then he brought over a couple of Sunkist soda bottles.

“Hi son,” John said softly, with a knowing gleam in his eye. 

“Dad” Dean barely whispered, “long time…”

“Yeah, how ya been?”

“Ah, good. Not good, been a helluva ride since you..left.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. How's Sammy?”

“He’s alright, dunno. Having a hard time letting go of Mom,” Dean gritted his teeth. 

With everyone gone he’d found himself seeing red. He hurt over his mother, but hadn't been able to think around the crater in his heart left by the angel. Only now did he feel ready to bring her recent memory close, beginning the process. “I uh, couldn't grab her I-”

“Stop.” John said firmly.

Dean looked up to find John shaking, on the edge of tears. 

“I don't want to hear you blame yourself anymore, for any of it. Not for Sammy. Not for Mom. And for the love of God, especially not your angel. This compulsion you have is on me. I couldn't see the forest for the trees how my obsession affected you and had no right putting my grief on you. You shouldered it when you should’ve been playing baseball with friends, going to school, having a normal life. I took that from you both.”

“Dad, it doesn't change anything. Sam and I-”

“It was wrong! It's bad enough you saw your mom die, you and Sam deserved even more protection. Instead you got thrown into the hunt. You're both shouldering the weight of the world instead of enjoying a white picket fence with 2.5 kids!”

“You're right. We’ve got something better. Thanks to your Dad we’ve got the Batcave with Enochian warding. We’ve got a fallen angel and nephil kid who I’ll be thrilled to death if he ever looks up to me half as much as I looked up to you. We’ve got a couple of badass Sheriff Pseudo Moms with two daughters in-the-know who can hold their own in a vamp fight. We’ve got a friend who tends to get wild once a month but would lay down his life for us without question. It may not be the life you saw for us, but it's ours. It flat out sucks ass sometimes, but I dare anyone to try and take it.”

John took a few deep breaths, steeling himself, “Then you've still got something worth fighting for. It's good.There's something you need to hear. You need to know I’m proud of you. Not the you that tried to be anything like me. The person who’s fought to be himself, the man who carved out a life from the crap hand he was dealt. Same goes for Sam. I’m sorry. I always loved you and you didn't hear that enough, if ever. But you can hear it now.”

“We know.”

John nodded his head, “Tell Sam hi from me will ya?” 

Dean got up and hugged John so hard that if he were alive he wouldn't be able to breathe. “Miss you Dad.”

“Miss you too son. Be happy.”

They downed their sodas, Dean was halfway through chugging his when he woke up the next morning. 

 

He wiped the sleep from his eyes to see Cas perched on the foot of his bed, as if he'd been meditating there. 

“Mornin’ Sunshine. How long you been sitting there playing Buddha?”

Cas tilted his head, regarding Dean quizzically.

Dean patted the spot next to him, summoning his angel. Cas, who’d left his jacket and coat off since the night before, slid under the covers and cozied up to a very warm Winchester. Dean curled into his chest feeling so blissful, he allowed himself to sleep a few more hours.

The next few days were a blur. Still no hint of a case, Dean decided to give up scrounging for bad news and remain grateful there wasn't any. Despite the lack of monsters, he and Cas didn't get much time together. He and Jack had been working on angel powers outside in a heavily wooded area, so as not to be too easily spotted. Likewise, Sam and Dean were occupied with a family gesture they’d cooked up, the reveal set for Christmas Eve. 

So the two contented themselves with stolen kisses here and there. Both enjoyed the anticipation and delay of more passionate things to come. Dean felt 14 all over again, reveling in any opportunity to hold his angels hand or kiss his cheek. Cas was warmed to see Dean more himself and enjoyed spotting mischief in his human's eyes when he’d pounce from around a corner for a 60 second snuggle away from wandering eyes. His grace tingled in new, exciting ways. 

**Christmas Eve**

December 24th was upon them, Jack assisted Dean with a deep fried turkey. Sam made salad(which he was oddly protective of), potatoes, and gravy. Castiel showed Jack how to make the cherry pie. The smells wafting through the bunker had everyone salivating, except Cas who simply stated it all smelled adequately digestible.

Post feast, they rolled themselves into the library with some minimally obnoxious holiday music playing. All were sipping hot cocoa when Jack thanked them with deep sincerity for helping him experience both Jewish and Christian traditions. He shared his desire to continue finding small but meaningful things to place faith in. Then his voice took on a more determined tone.

“I was born into a chaotic situation, I’m aware of my part in that-”

All three started to protest, but he held his hand up to silence them.

“Sam, the kindness you’ve shown has given me faith that most people are inherently good. I want to live by your example. Dean, first impressions aren't always accurate I guess? Your faith comes from the powerful connections you share with others, thanks for not killing me so I can create some of my own. Castiel, you’ve shown me unconditional love and having faith in something so powerful is correct and good. These are excellent foundations to build upon. Thank you for teaching and caring for me when life took the most painful turn. Guess it's what family does, so, I want to do something for you.”

“Jack, didn't we decide on no presents?” Dean asked.

“It’s not what you think, promise. Sam, hold my hand please.”

Sam looked at Jack like he’d grown another arm.

“Please?” Jack repeated softly.

He cautiously clasped Jack's hand in his, and shut his eyes tight. There was a whoosh of air from the sound of enormous wings, then they were gone. 

Cas stood, pulling Dean by his shirt up against him, and softly kissed him. Dean relaxed against him, feeling so happy he almost didn't know what to do with himself.

“How long have we got?” 

“Not THAT long,” Cas sighed wistfully. So he contented himself with running his fingers gently along the skin of Dean's hip, just above the faded 501’s, while his neck was peppered with sweet little kisses. 

Too soon Cas pulled away, straightening them. A second later the whoosh of wings brought Sam back, he stood with silent tears running down his face.

“You ok?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded, while Jack waited proudly for him to explain. 

“The Library, a section.. exists, still standing. Only just ..they’ve begun excavating.”

Dean looked at him like he was nuts. Who cried over a library? Jeezus his brother was a nerd. “And?”

“The original Library of Alexandria. Dean, there's scrolls of Greek Law.. Encyclopedias of extinct animals..I..thank you Jack!” he exclaimed and hugged him. 

“Dean it's your turn,” Jack said confidently, reaching out his hand.

Dean stepped back, hands raised in a gesture meaning to not offend, “Aaahhh what's the structural integrity like? I dunno.”

“We’re going elsewhere.”

Clearly the kid was itching to stretch his wings, plus he did bring Sam back so he held Jack's hand, and glanced at Cas who smiled back reassuringly. The teleporting, Dean understood, was what they’d been working on outside. He squeezed his eyes shut, Cas watched with happiness as Jack whisked him off for a few moments. 

He filled time getting Sam to speak about Egypt. The younger Winchester had calmed, and marveled with him over the wonders. Cas made his evening all the brighter by informing him Jack could take him again.

Sam whirled around when Dean came back and saw one of the biggest, goofiest grins on his brother's face. 

“Tombstone, Arizona! The O.K. Corral, it was awesome!!! Jack, thanks!!” Dean practically sang as he hugged him. 

“You're welcome Dean, Merry Christmas.”

“Dean and I have something we’d like to share with you both. It's more of a family gesture, to encourage well, you’ll see” Sam said leading the way down the hall. 

They came to the last door before turning downstairs to the dungeon and gun range. Sam opened the door and turned on the light. Cas and Jack looked in on what used to be a very large, unused interrogation room but now had a different purpose. There were three plush sofas Cas recognized from elsewhere in the bunker, a flat screen tv was mounted on the wall, bookshelves were lined with monographs of the recreational, pop culture kind. Next to those was a closet filled with board and card games. A sound system with all kinds of music sat in the corner near a pool table. The walls were lined with family pictures of the Winchesters plus Bobby and Rufus, Ellen and Jo, Kevin and Charlie, and many others. There were even a few of Team Free Will. On an end table in another corner were two 8x10 picture frames, one held Mary and the other Kelly. 

Jack walked over to the photo of his mother, holding it with reverence. 

“This is a proper Family Room. Most homes have a relaxing spot where they hang out, watch tv or play games together. The library is really useful, most homes don't have that. But it's not relaxing or fun which is important for a family to have,” Sam explained.

“What Dr. Phil here is trying to say is we were overdue for a space we wanted to hang out in together, we’re family, it's time we start acting like one” Dean clarified, emotionally.

Indeed, Cas could tell this was the piecemeal labor of brothers. Every item save the pool table and tv were transplants from other rooms. The time taken, the energy to haul pieces of furniture in there, the selection and hanging of all the pictures was the gift. It was a place composed of items that didn’t share their beginnings together, some were older and some were newer, they weren't of the same style or function. But when placed together in this room, everything fit, everything belonged. 

The library was a useful place of need. The brothers had resided here for years, they could've done this long ago. But it wasn't until they felt more complete, that Sam and Dean had chosen to make a room of want. A Family Room was the perfect name for it, because Cas now knew how much Dean wanted him. It meant more to Cas than Dean could ever realize.

He slid his hand into Dean's, lacing their fingers. “Thank you.”

Dean kissed the top of his head, “You're welcome.” 

Cas shook slightly, Dean noticed. The angel got a distant, far off look in his eye. 

“Let’s head back to the library,” Cas stated with something on his mind. “I’ll be visited shortly, you’ll follow me regardless of what I say,” he replied, towing Dean behind him. 

“Someone's coming here? Tonight?”

“Briefly. You needn’t worry.”

They lingered between the War Room and Library. Cas stayed while Dean took the lower step, he turned to face him and happily welcomed a kiss. The tree was lit up behind them, the surround sound softly played Bob’s Seger's Night Moves. Dean blissfully hummed along as his lips brushed and pushed against Cas’s. He felt the lazy sweep of his angels hot tongue and thought to himself that perhaps the holidays weren't so bad after all. Everyone was happy and healthy, all was quiet on the monster front, he and Cas were finally..themselves. 

“Cas…”

“Hmm?”

“I'm really happy you're here.”

Cas's smile reached his eyes, “I am too.”

“I mean it, I thought you’d finally gone where I couldn't follow. Not having you here, not ever finding out what it would be like to hold you like this or kiss you, it messed me up pretty bad. You need to know how much you were missed, how much I.. love you. Just, you need to know.”

Cas held Dean, cradling him against his chest. “I’ve loved you since before finding you in hell, and love you still.”

Dean looked up in amazement.

“Perhaps that's a story for another time.”

“I’ve got all night,” Dean said.

“We’ve got all night, after this Dean.”

“After what?” he puzzled, then watched Cas look up with a calm expression. 

He craned his head, then whipped around. 

“Hi Dean. Castiel….”

At the top of the stairs stood Billie, looking regal in a shimmering grey gown and black cloak. 

“Billie.” Cas regarded her as simply as she’d addressed him. 

Dean’s stomach turned, his heart was racing.

“Relax Winchester, I’m not here to collect. Besides, Castiel and me, we’re good...right?”

“Yes, we’re good. We understand each other better now I think,” Cas said confidently. 

“Tonight I’m bringing, not taking,” she said, practically gliding down the stairs. 

Dean thought to himself as lovely as she is, Death bringing instead of taking, still sounds menacing. 

She looked to Dean with a knowing gaze, “My disdain may be dwindling. I appreciate the compliment and healthy respect.You took my advice about not wasting opportunity. Love is a gift even Death knows well.”

She held a small black box to Cas and dropped it in his palm. “You remember our accord….”

“Yes, of course. Do you?”

Billie turned her head and swiftly approached Dean who was frozen to the floor, blood draining from his face, his heartbeat reaching a critical rate. She absentmindedly turned her ring, then gave him a piercing stare.

“Calm. Good things do happen Dean. You will allow him to explain, are we clear?”

All he managed was a brief nod, he felt a push in his veins as if an intravenous sedative had spilled over his threshold. 

Has she done something to me?

“I’ll leave you to the night’s revelry. Dean, know I value your angel and am glad of him.” She started up the stairs then turned, addressing the angel.

“Not yet. Happy trails…” and then she was gone. 

Cas immediately went to Dean, holding him through his now paralytic fear. “It’s ok, please don't worry.”

His eyes were like saucers as he muttered, “Y-you made a deal with Death? What’ve you done?” 

“It's not what you think! Nobody's getting hurt or dying.”

“What did she give you?”

“This? It's a ring.” 

He opened the box, revealing one wrought of smooth tungsten. A pale blue stone was perfectly set within it.

“I’ll be leaving you occasionally, only for very brief periods and never during a case.”

“Why?! “

“It’s not forever and only when I’m called.”

“Called?” Dean's fear was lingering. 

“Yes, called. I needed to make amends for what I did to her. Unless I make this right, the cosmic consequences to myself and those I love, would be never ending. I agreed to reap for Billie when specific occasions arise. Things are repaired now, as well as they can be. I got a few bonuses in return.”

“Bonuses?”

“How do you think your visitors came to you? Heaven would never allow it. I wanted to give you what you needed most Dean. A reason to have faith again in what you do for the world. You couldn't even see the path to start looking for your lost faith. If you could see some of those you feel the most regret over, learn what good has come from their loss, then you could move forward. This was within my power to give you. A perk of my new ‘community service’, for lack of a better term.”

“It was you?”

“For Chanukah, yes. Hence the 8.”

“I didn't get you anything.”

“You did, your gift is the direct result of what I hoped my gift would yield,” Cas explained, “sounds more self serving than it is. You gave me a family room and your heart tonight, did you not?” he asked, placing his hand on Dean's chest.

Dean nodded as a beautiful pink spread across his lightly freckled face. 

“It's precious to me. I never expected it, but I dreamt of it.”

Dean's face grew an even brighter shade of pink. “What's the ring for?”

“Death transcends worlds; to reap I’ll be walking between many. With my current status in heaven, the ring ensures my safe passage from any realm so I may deliver souls accordingly. Some refer to me as the Angel of Tears, hopefully I can wipe a few away with this new position. Billie tasked me with bringing distressed souls of children caught between realms to their eternal place of comfort.”

“You did this..for me.”

“Yes and Sam. It won’t be forever.”

Dean was in awe of him. He wasn't thrilled Cas would be rift surfing of all things, but if it kept cosmic crap at bay, he’d take the hit. 

He grabbed Cas, pushed him up against the wall and kissed him wildly with hands running through that fantastic hair. Cas’s roamed aggressively down Dean's back.

“What other bonuses?” asked Dean.

“Not sure you’d find them enticing at the moment. However, if the curiosity provides too much, I could spend the night sitting here explaining it to you.”

“Hmm..no..unless.. it involves... us, a bed, and.. heavily.. insulated... walls, it can..wait,” Dean puffed between desperately passionate kisses.

During the shock of Death’s visit, there was part of the exchange Dean hadn't caught. Earlier in the month, Cas asked Billie if anyone had reaped Mary Winchester, tonight the answer had been no. He knew the calm of the bunker would be turned into glad chaos at the news, calm which the family desperately needed. He’d allow them one more night to recharge their batteries, in whatever form that took for each. In the morning he’d gladly give them news which would ignite their flame of purpose. Cas suspected it would be strongest for Sam.

The rest of Christmas night was spent locked in Dean's room, heatedly tangled in each other's arms. It was Jack who’d endeavored to build faith weeks earlier, but Dean realized Castiel was his own Shamash, his miraculous, enduring light of faith in the darkness. Dean was Castiel’s Christmas star, forever guiding him home. No matter where they went, who they fought, or which worlds parted them, both would always remain burning brightly for the other.


End file.
